Harry Potter and the Mystery of the Goblins
by grammar conscious possum
Summary: Harry is in a slump after ceasing his employment with the Feds, until he finds out about a previously unknown legacy from his parents, a Swiss Bank account... Possibly the first ever HP, Da Vinci Code and Sound of Music crossover!
1. The Swiss Connection

**Chapter One: The Swiss Connection**

**Disclaimer: The author makes no claim whatsoever to ownership of any of the works of J. K. Rowling, Dan Brown, or the makers ****of the _Sound of Music_... for obvious reasons. **

**A few notes: If you're feeling in a literary mood, the author and editors recommend you read the previous fictions in the _Diabolical Directorate_ series first. Please be warned that this story contains some mild poking of fun at a couple of nations, not to mention the HPverse et al, and there is a reference to thighs, which those of a very nervous disposition had best avoid. Otherwise, enjoy!**

"Acme Real Estate, how can we help you today?"

Harry Potter put his feet on the desk and lay back in his narrow cubicle.

"Yes, we do have some excusive apartments left in our "MiddleEarth" development. We have several 150 square feet Hobbits and one luxury 900 square feet Strider still available, although they are going fast. No, I am sorry, Rohan and Gondor Towers are sold out, but we still have a number remaining in The Tower of Doom."

A long pause.

"Well, goodbye then, and have a nice day."

Cursing the idiot who had named their latest development, Harry brooded over his situation.

After the unfortunate series of events at the Academy Awards, (_See Harry Potter and the Facechangers_), Harry had been sued by practically the whole of the Hollywood establishment. His lawyer expected him to be cleared in time, but all his money was sequestered away until that happened.

He was still a trainee Auror, but to his infinite irritation they had put him on indefinite suspension. As for his being an Ordinary Agent of the Federal Aurors Administration, he did not think it wise to claim his pay until things quietened down.

Naturally he had stashes of galleons, dollars and sundry other currencies in various dark locations unknown to the Magic Inland Revenue, but he could not go near them with all the lawyers sniffing around. Hence the job in a call centre selling real estate to gullible muggles.

The phone rang once more and he reached for it wearily.

* * *

At lunch he made his out the front door and went in search of some greasy fast food. A fluttering of wings, and an owl perched on his shoulder. He undid the narrow strip of paper from its leg and read, " Pls cme Grngts 5.00 PM, mgr." 

Gringotts still had not got the idea of text messaging.

He wrote out a reply, "cya thn", and sent the owl off.

* * *

At five he made his way to Diagon Alley. As soon as he slipped through the gap in the brickwork his hand slipped under his coat to his wand. Voldemort was out there somewhere, and it was more likely that he would come after Harry on wizard territory. 

Wartknees, the senior goblin at the desk in Gringotts seemed happy to see Harry, and ushered him into a private office. The beady eyed little creature took a seat and peered at Harry over dusty pince nez.

"I have not heard anything else about your, um, legal difficulties, but I have no doubt you will prevail. A mere Hollywood attorney will be completely out of his depth in the Wizards Courts of Chancery. But that is not why I want to talk to you."

"No?"

"No. We have been clearing out some of our safety deposits over the last few months. Unfortunately the clerk in charge of the security spells died suddenly without recording the Spells of Opening, and we had a number of security measures to bypass to renew access."

He glared at Harry, daring him to comment on their ineptitude, then went on.

"When we finally got access we found a previously unlisted box in your father's name, James Potter."

He rang a bell and a minion, a goblin with heavily bandaged hands, brought in a tray with a carved wooden box on it, and placed it carefully on the desk.

"Go ahead and open it. I am afraid only a Potter can have access without sustaining severe burns."

Harry tentatively opened the box. Nothing happened, so he reached in and took out the faded piece of parchment and the tiny brass key that lay within.

"Gringütts Bank, Deposit Box Number 17775" was written on the parchment.

Wartknees beamed. "So, your father kept a deposit box with our sister bank in Zurich, excellent. I recommend that you go there immediately and check on the contents."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "That may be difficult, as I have no money. As I recall, not only have you frozen my account, but your principal security wizard cast a spell on me to make me forget my PIN number."

Wartknees swallowed, "Perhaps we were a little hasty, I can allow a small overdraft of five hundred…"

"Two thousand, and interest free." Harry commented. Obviously having a Swiss Bank account made him respectable again in the eyes of the banking world.

"Er.. two thousand, until matters become clear."


	2. Harry Meets The Baron

**Chapter Two: Harry Meets the Baron**

Harry stood outside the imposing doors of Gringütts for a moment, then braced himself and went in. The banking hall was enormous, with marble floors and high ceilings, and long lines of well-dressed Swiss persons queuing in an orderly manner at numerous counters, served by well presented clerks.

Harry smiled. He had been wondering how the two conflicting influences of the French and the German characters worked in the Swiss psyche. It seemed to work okay.

He swallowed and approached the customer service desk, and was directed to the third door on the left. Once inside there, he was back in familiar Gringotts territory. The goblin behind the high desk stuck his quill behind his ear and glowered at him, "Guten Tag, bonjour monsieur?"

"Hello, I am Harry Potter from England." England. A country where goblins are seen as amusing garden ornaments. The goblin scowled.

"Hmph, I am Vingnutt, ze principal clerk. Please to come with me."

Harry followed the small dusty creature up a staircase onto a gallery which overlooked the main banking floor and turned right to follow the goblin.

Before he had taken a half dozen steps there was a loud bang and the lights went out, leaving them in total darkness. Immediately there came a babble of cries and the sound of scuffling from below.

"Ze emergency lighting vill quickly on come," the goblin muttered from somewhere nearby, but seconds passed in the darkness and the noises from below grew louder.

Harry reached behind his hip and drew his wand in the flickering Federal Aurors draw he had learned in the US.

"_Illuminatio_!" he shouted, and a tiny ball of fire left the end of his wand and shot up to the ceiling, where it became a glowing sphere that illuminated every corner of the huge hall, displaying a scene of chaos.

Well dressed burghers were standing on top of the counters, rummaging in tills, and filling their pockets with great handfuls of notes and coins. Others were scuffling in small groups over bundles of currency; more were holding goblins at arm's length by their throats as they rifled cash drawers. As soon as the light appeared, they all froze.

After a few seconds they quietly put down the money and goblins, emptied their pockets, and returned to their queues, shamefaced and watched over by glowering clerks.

Suddenly the lights came back on, and the scene was exactly as it had been, except for the general dishevelment of the customers.

A small number of people had stood aloof from the chaos, the group standing immediately beneath where Harry and the goblin stood on the gallery.

One of them called up to Harry, "Excuse me."

"Er, what?"

"Did you say "Illuminati?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I said '_Illuminatio_'. It is a… a technical term of instruction to my electrician to replace the fuse," he lied swiftly. "The Illuminati, on the other hand, are a legendary and quite fictitious secret organization of powerful individuals who have run the planet for the last thousand years. Another of those crazy conspiracy theories."

"Ok, thanks," the voice shouted up, and the group, which Harry noticed included the Secretary of the Communist Party of China, two cardinals wearing mitres and bearing croziers, the vice president of the USA, and David Beckham, broke up as its members returned to their respective queues.

Another goblin hurried up. "The Baron would like to speak to Mr. Potter."

Harry followed him into a lift and up several floors to a spectacular penthouse office.

A distinguished man in his fifties came from behind a huge antique desk, empty but for dozens of framed pictures of blonde children, and shook hands.

"Bonjour, bienvenue, Guten Tag. I am the Baron von Rattrapp, chairman of this establishment. Welcome to our bank, Mr. Potter, I am told that your, your _special _skills saved us from some serious difficulties just now. It is very unusual to have a power cut, a failure of our three backup generators, and a total eclipse of the sun at exactly the same moment, but these things happen."

He waved Harry to a seat.

"Allow me to invite you stay in my chateau and to join me for lunch today. It will be a humble affair, but mon chef prepares a magnificent civet of roast tripe on a bed of steak tartare with caviare and lobster claws. And of course some bratwurst."

Harry demurred.

"It was nothing. I look forward to dealing with Gringutts."

"Gringutts, Gringutts? The vord is Gringütts, Gringütts, vith an umlaut. Alvays the umlaut with precision pronounced must be. Alvays!"

Harry jumped back.

The Count was embarrassed by his own outburst.

"My apologies mon ami, one becomes tiresome on the subject of ze grammaire. Please come to my home with me now and we can have lunch, you can get settled into your suite, and I can introduce you to my family. We can deal with the banking matters tomorrow."


	3. How D'You Solve A Problem Like Da Vinci?

**Chapter Three: How Do You Solve A Problem Like the Da Vinci Code?**

The car rolled through acre upon acre of sculptured grounds, and Harry looked out with awe. Okay, the grounds were mostly set at an angle of 45 degrees, this being Switzerland, but it was still impressive.

"My grandfather took to bingo late in life and lost most of our possessions," the Baron confided in him sadly. "And ve now only have one decent country house."

Harry goggled as the house appeared on the horizon, a monstrous edifice of towers and turrets at least the size of Hogwarts.

The car drew up by a set of huge carved doors at the top of marble steps. Uniformed flunkeys came running, two to unroll the red carpet, two to open the car doors and assist them out, and two more to blow a fanfare on trumpets.

"You will forgive me for bringing you to the back door, Harry, but I find too much formality to be a little vulgar."

Harry's suite of four rooms had a balcony overlooking severely landscaped gardens beneath, a boathouse on the lake, the airstrip and the helicopter pad.

He joined the Baron for a magnificent meal, washed down with a Swiss white wine which gave the same effect as inhaling razor blades.

After wards the Baron took him upstairs to the nursery to meet his children. As the minions carried them upstairs in their sedan chairs he explained, "I am afraid my wife deserted me a year ago, leaving me to look after my sixteen children alone. She disagreed with my somewhat rigid rejection of contraception, I am afraid. Fortunately I have a very good assistant, a young nun from the nearby convent."

They got out of their sedan chairs and went into the nursery.

Harry reeled back from the bedlam inside.

It was a huge room, and brightly lit by high uncurtained windows. The room was full of children, from two year old quads coating themselves in finger paints to an indefinite number of teenagers playing deafening house music. All seemed to be dressed in garments badly sewn together from chintz, apart from the quads whose clothing seemed to consist of Venetian blinds stapled together.

The only sign of an adult supervisor was a nun in full robes, tugging at a guitar which was chained to a pillar by no less than three padlocks.

"Sister Maria!"

She saw them and came over. "This is Sister Maria, who looks after my children, and this is my guest, Mr. Harry Potter."

Harry froze, and the limited proportion of the young sister's face visible under the veil went red.

Harry gasped. The nun was none other than Laetitia Voldmurt, the CAA agent he had worked with in LA.

"Is something wrong?"

"Er... no Baron, all nuns look the same, and this young lady reminds me of a dear friend who took the veil some time ago."

"Oh, I see. Well, Sister Maria will introduce you to the children and show you round, as I need to go and, go and… make some calls to New York."

He tugged Harry to one side, slipped him a small loaded pistol, and whispered, "If that nun looks like getting the guitar loose or goes near the curtains, let her have it."

As soon as the door closed behind the Baron Maria rounded on Harry.

"What are you doing here, Hank Potter?"

"My father had an account with his bank. I came over today and... he invited me to stay. What are you doing here, in that outfit. And by the way, did the Weasleys ever give you that new spell to, enhance your… em, figure."

She blushed, prettily. "They did, thank you. I am now a 38 C, though it is a waste of time in this outfit. Anyway, I have been put in here to infiltrate Gringütts. Some of the most important Death Eaters in the US have big accounts here, and we think we can trace you-know-who through them."

"Have you had any luck?"

She shook her head, "I am afraid not. Not with this lot to look after. I have not got a minute to spare. And when I run out of Ritalin next week I don't know how I will cope."

Harry looked at his watch. The noise was getting to him, and the smell of numerous babies overdue for changing.

"I have to see them anyway about my father's account. I'll get back to you later."

She grabbed his arm, "Oh no you don't, I am coming too."

She rang the bell and a dour butler appeared, "Friedrich, ask one of the maids to keep an eye on the children, I need to leave on an important message."

A look of panic appeared in the eyes of the aged retainer, "But zey vill give notice! Zose children are little devils!"

With a sigh Harry reached into his pocket. Not unlike the Scots, the Swiss had a way of shaking off their depression as soon as a gleam of gold appeared.

* * *

The goblin was adamant, "We can only admit Mr. Potter. It is forbidden for those persons who do not have accounts to enter here."

"Guess I'll have to wait in the bar across the road."

Laetitia stomped up to the bar. "Barkeep, gimme a pint of Budweiser. What the hell are you staring at?"

"That will be fifty francs Sister. Actually, we do not get a lot of nuns in here."

"I'm not surprised, at these prices."

She sunk her pint in seconds, brooding over the brutish children in her charge. Suddenly something touched her knee. She looked down to see an unusually homely goblin smiling up at her. "Excuse me Fraulein, but can vun buy you a drink?"

A million cutting put-downs sprang to her mind, but then she spotted the distinctive grey and gold uniform of Gringütts, and a fake smile appeared on her lips.

"Of course, but let us first find somevhere, I mean _somewhere_, more secluded."

* * *

Fingerprints, retinal scans and DNA tests were only the beginning of the security layers that encircled the safe deposit boxes.

At last, however, the final set of steel doors opened before Harry.

A goblin examined Harry's key and receipt, then he took a similar key from a cabinet and began to struggle into a suit marked "Bomb Squad".

"There are many privacy spells protecting these boxes."

The goblin inserted his key, and backed off quickly. To Harry's relief nothing happened when he opened his own, apart from a faint click, and soon he was sitting at a table and extracting the contents of the box.

On top was a sheaf of documents that Harry recognised as Swiss Government Bonds. He peeled off two and passed them to the goblin. "Please open a numbered account for me."

There were three photo albums, two large and one small. The first was of his parents wedding, and Harry brushed away a tear as he glanced at the smiling faces. They had honeymooned in Switzerland, and there were altogether too many pictures of Alpenhorns and cows and skiers.

The second was of later holidays they had had in Switzerland. Clearly they had taken to the place.

The small one Harry picked up and flicked open, then slammed shut and dropped abruptly back into the box, hairs on the back of his neck rising, before sealing it shut with the most powerful spell in his repertoire. As he did so he wished that his parents had stuck to the convention of taking photographs only of the daytime activities of their honeymoon.

Under the albums was a ring of keys and some documents. Harry read them with delight. It appeared he owned an apartment in Zurich.

Finally, there was a carved wooden box.

Engraved on the lid was a mystic pattern of eighty one squares, some blank, others inlaid with numbers ranging from one to nine.

The goblin returned and handed Harry a chequebook. Noticing the strange pattern he said, "I have seen those before. They must be solved to open the box. A mystical number pattern, it can only be decoded by the cleverest of wizards."

Harry reached for a quill. He had been solving the Su Doku in the "Daily Star" in the office tea break for the last two months, and now he solved the puzzle in minutes. The lid popped open.

Inside was what looked like a magic wand, but shorter and fatter than usual and with a series of coloured rods inlaid in the sides, each fixed with a hinge at one end, so that they could be folded out in line with the wand.

Harry looked at the goblin, who shrugged. Taking the wand, the apartment keys and papers, the two decent photograph albums and the chequebook, Harry went to the bar.


	4. The Plot Thickens

**Chapter Four: The Plot Thickens**

There was no sign of Laetitia. He nodded to the barman, "See any nuns in here lately?"

The barman pursed his lips, "Nuns, nuns, I dunno…Hang on, there was one, headed into the Karaoke lounge out back with a goblin. Maybe that's the one you want."

As Harry approached the door of the lounge he could hear a shrill, flat and loud voice destroying "Unchained Melody."

_Now I understand why the Baron had locked up her guitar_, Harry confided to himself.

He pushed the door open to see Laetitia on the stage singing to an audience of two, a goblin and a heavily bearded character who was doing damage to a bottle of schnapps at a corner table. Unfinished meals and half empted glasses on the other tables testified to the urgency with which the remainder of the patrons had vacated the room.

Eventually, the dirge came to an end. Laetitia bounded down and kissed the goblin. The goblin, whose face had already far too much make-up smears on it for one kissed by a nun, shot a nervous glance at Harry, excused himself as having to get back to work, and scurried out.

"So I see you have been making new friends." Harry's voice was cold.

"Yes, and look what he gave me!"

She lifted her habit, and Harry swallowed. Her thighs were smooth and inviting. Tucked into her suspender belt were a number of rolled parchments.

"The full banking details of all the Death Eaters I was looking for! Did you get what you wanted in the bank?"

"Hm, yes," gulped Harry. Those thighs… He got his mind back in gear as she let her skirt fall.

"It appears I have an apartment. Would you care to see it?"

"I'd love to, but first I'd better get these parchments back to HQ. Can we meet here in about an hour?"

"Good idea, I can get my luggage from the Baron's place while you are doing that."

"Tell him I won't be back, will you. Say I have an urgent novena to perform, or something."

When they left, the bearded figure in the corner tugged his beard loose, revealing the unmistakable features of Lucius Malfoy.

He laughed loudly in the empty room. "So, after three months as a fugitive from Azkaban, I find that fate places Mr. Potter at my mercy. This should be enjoyable."

He took an owl, some parchment, a quill and ink from his pocket.

"Meet me outside Gringutts in 45 minutes. P.S. Wear an appropriate disguise."

"Whoo."

"What?"

The owl hooted again, and clawed at the parchment. "Very well," Malfoy snarled, and filled in the umlaut. Blasted Swiss owls, punctual to the minute but pedantic beyond belief when it came to spelling.

"Now take this to my damned henchmen."

He stepped outside to wait. Looking at his wrist, he realized he had no watch.

He entered a jewellers. "Give me the best watch you have."

A hundred thousand francs the lighter he came out, feeling the weight of about two pounds of gold, diamonds and tiny handmade components on his wrist. He walked back and forth for a while, then looked at the watch and swore.

By pressing the tiny buttons he could work out the time of high tide in Valparaiso, the beginning of Ramadan in Madagascar, and the time remaining until the opening of the grouse season in Scotland, but it shed no light on the time of day in Zurich.

He cursed, then pressed another combination of buttons and a tiny cuckoo sprang out, almost removing his eye, and hooted thirteen times.

He looked up, swearing under his breath, only to see a small group coming along the street towards him. Groaning, he put his head in his hands.

The Crabbe brothers had contrived to find a cow costume, compete with bell. Gronge, a new recruit, had a complete Vatican Swiss Guard costume, including halberd, and Goyle, the uncle of that brat that hung around with Draco, wore a dirndl, a blonde wig and had an excessive amount of makeup on his stubble covered face.

"Fools, I expected you to blend in, not look like the cast of a bloody Swiss pantomime. Shh, here they come, try to be inconspicuous."

* * *

Harry returned in time to see Laetitia get off a tram.

"How did it go?"

She beamed. "Great. They were highly impressed. This could mean promotion. How was the Baron? What did he say?"

Harry swallowed. The castle had been in a state of complete anarchy. Two maids, still in uniform, were outside the gates trying to hitch a ride to anywhere else. A fire crew were dampening down the shell of the nursery. The butler had locked himself in his pantry with a bottle of port and was refusing to come out. Small bands of blonde children were everywhere in the castle, singing complex harmonies as they improved Rubens paintings with crayons, invented bowling games using the Baron's rare Meissen figures, and played soldiers with the contents of the gun room. Harry had not dared to approach the Baron, who was in his study softly singing, "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria? " as he fed rounds into the chamber of a pump action shotgun.

"I did not get to speak to him. I suggest you send a polite letter of resignation instead. Let's go look at my apartment."

They walked along the scrupulously clean streets.

"What was that?"

"What, Hank?"

"I thought I heard a cowbell."

Harry opened the apartment door and led her in. It was large and beautifully furnished, but Harry had no eyes for it for now. He took Laetitia's face in his hands.

"You know I love a woman in uniform."

"That's funny, this is a habit I would like to get out of," she giggled.

The doorbell rang. "Special delivery from Gringutts!"

"Gringütts!" Harry automatically corrected as he opened the door. He had a fleeting impression of a cow, someone in a sixteenth century uniform and a huge bearded stranger before a powerful spell flung him senseless to the floor.


	5. A Cheesy Finale

**Chapter Five:A CheesyFinale**

"Don't move, Hank!"

"What the…"

Harry and Laetitia were inside some vast building, sitting on a small wooden platform fixed high on a wooden wall covered in carvings.

Thirty feet below them was a monstrous vat, filled with yellow bubbling liquid.

Harry grabbed the edges of the platform and clung on for dear life.

On stacking chairs beside the vat sat a bearded man, an ugly Swiss drag queen, a Swiss Guard and the two halves of a pantomime cow.

The bearded one peeled his beard away. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter."

"Malfoy, you…" he whispered to Laetitia, "Where's my wand?"

"Back in the apartment," she answered.

"Mr. Potter, it was by an amusing coincidence that I ran across you today. I have decided that your end should be suitably in keeping with our location here in Switzerland. In exactly two minutes, at five PM, the rather large cuckoo in the unusually large clock I have constructed will emerge and push you both into the vat of melting cheese, now at 200 degrees, below you. Unfortunately we cannot stay to watch…"

The back half of the cow whispered to him, "Oh, in fact we can. Kickoff is not until six thirty. Please enjoy your last…er…55 seconds."

Harry looked frantically around. Nowhere to jump to, no wand, nothing.

"We'd need an army to get us out of here, " said Laetitia mournfully.

Army. Swiss army! Suddenly he rummaged in his pocket, and removed the wand. Of course, it was a Swiss Army Wand!

He unfolded one of the small wands, aimed it at the wooden door and shouted a spell to seal it closed. The door turned into melted cheese and oozed away, exposing a huge mechanical cuckoo, poised ready to strike.

He unfolded the second wand, aimed it at the clock face, and shouted another spell, and the entire face turned to milk chocolate, embedded with tasty raisins and almonds.

With a solid click the main hand reached twelve and the mechanism began to whirr.

Cursing the Swiss under his breath, Harry folded out one of the other attachments, a thin metal object. This was clearly designed for removing stones from horses hooves.

Finally, folding out the last remaining wand, Harry pointed it at the great vat and shouted a final spell of destruction.

There was a massive explosion and the vat inverted on top of the spectators. Harry grabbed Laetitia by the hand and jumped fifteen feet onto the base of the vat just as the razor sharp beak of the cuckoo swept past.

* * *

Swiss police and Aurors were leading the handcuffed and cheese-covered felons out the door.

"Well Mr. Potter, you did very well to overcome such evil wizards," the ÜberAuror commented. "But unfortunately there is little we can do to them, apart from charging them with some routine cheese-related misdemeanours. We have no extradition for crimes of magic with the UK, and they have committed no serious crime here. Once their burns are treated they may leave, perhaps with a small fine."

"But that is crazy, these people are evil psychos. Something must be possible."

"Ve are afraid not, Herr Potter. Ve need to have a serious crime to charge them vith."

Laetitia's eyes narrowed, "They did gain admission to Hank's flat by pretending to be bank messengers..."

"Mein Gott, impersonating a bank official is the most serious of Swiss crimes. Stop, put zose men in chains. Summon ze guillotine operator at vunce."

Harry and Laetitia walked into the square, hand in hand.

Tourists were coming and going in their thousands, getting on and off buses and taking photographs of each other in front of anything more than five years old.

"Well Hank, looks like it is time to go back to your flat and carry on where we left off. " Her eyes were warm. "A pity I have not got a guitar to serenade you with, but I suppose I can sing _a capella_."

Harry gulped.

Without warning they were engulfed by an avalanche of nuns, emerging from the cathedral with a clattering of rosary beads and swarming onto a horde of buses.

An enormous moustachioed über-nun was shouting into a megaphone.

"Get on board the buses, Sisters, 'tis four days drive back to the County Kerry and we have lots of rosaries to say before then. I hope you have all been for a pee. Come along now, Sisters, hurry!"

Laetitia was swept helplessly onto the bus in the crowd, and the last Harry saw was her imploring face in the rear window as the bus accelerated away.

He shrugged his shoulders and waved.

At least, with the penguins, she would be safe from the Baron. Who knew, maybe Seamus Finnegan could track her down for him in a week or so. By then he might have found a spell to bring on temporary deafness.

He sighed with pleasure. He had his own apartment, a safe deposit full of bonds, and no real estate to sell. Malfoy Senior and his cronies were going down for a long time. Life could be a lot worse.


End file.
